


Existing

by flyingblackhawk



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Grieving Wanda, Hurt Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Supportive Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 20:00:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20020180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingblackhawk/pseuds/flyingblackhawk
Summary: After Sokovia, the Avengers bring a grieving Wanda back to Stark tower.





	Existing

It’s all so… shiny.

It’s stupid, but that’s the only word she can summon when she looks around the kitchen. Every surface _shines_. It’s so damn clean that she feels uncomfortable even touching the counters or the taps, afraid she’ll leave some kind of a mark.

It has been a week.

Not long, really. Although at the same time, it feels like a million years. Rogers has tried, like Clint did before he left to go be with his wife, and his newborn son. They named him after her brother, like that would make up for the loss of someone they all knew for- what, for a few hours?

Her fingers twitch, and the red glow dissipates. She must get a handle on her anger, if she wants to live this high above the ground. She knows the consequences of making holes in tall buildings.

Wanda has never felt quite so alone. He is gone, but so is everything else she knew. Back when she was imprisoned, she may have been locked away, but at least she’d been able to feel her brother there beside her. And Sokovia… all gone too, she supposed. Not that she would know, now that she was living in the shiny nest of the man who’d cost her everything of her first life, her real life.

She curls up, facing the wall. Maybe sleep will help, although the dreams are never pleasant. At least she feels a little less exhausted at the start of each day. Rogers says it’s a sign that she’s healing. She doesn’t know how to tell him that she won’t heal, not now, not ever. He would understand, if she could just get the words out, but she _can’t_. It’s so hard, still, talking to these people who have always been her enemies, people who until just over a week ago she would have killed without batting an eyelid. And these are the people she now relies upon for shelter, for food, for a purpose in life. Anything to distract her from the huge, gaping hole in her existence that is the absence of her brother.

_God, not again._

It’s not even surprising when the tears start. She wishes, not for the first time, that she wasn’t so high up in the air. It would be nice to be able to go sit in the grass, dig her fingers into the dirt and let all this anger and energy go into the ground and fade out. She can’t be destructive here, and it’s driving her crazy. Wanda hugs her knees sharply to her chest and tries to stay quiet. The walls have ears in this place.

-

Another day begins, and ends, and she continues… _existing_. Perhaps that is what she does now. She simply exists. What else is there to do? They won’t let her go out and help, until they decide she’s _better_ , a stupid word with which stupid people reassure themselves about things they don’t understand.

They’re all avoiding her.

Wanda understands, though. They feel guilty. She doesn’t need to go into anyone’s mind to see that. Everyone blames themselves for pulling her in and robbing her of the only important person left in her life, like her brother’s death wasn’t his own stupid fault. She takes a breath to stop the tears again - crying over breakfast isn’t going to convince anyone that she’s ready to go out and do something useful.

So it’s something of a surprise when Natasha comes to find her. It’s been almost a week and a half, and she’s sitting by the window in one of Stark’s ridiculously opulent lounges, watching the city below. It’s so different to anything she’s ever known, and she can’t even begin to think of it as her home.

“What’s got you up so late?”

She jumps a little. She could sense someone there, but she assumed it was Steve, come to tell her that a good night’s rest is essential for healing properly.

She shrugs. “Dreams. You know how it is.”

It’s something of a low blow. She knows Natasha hates what Wanda has seen of the inside of her head. Probably things that she didn’t even know were there herself until they were brought back by Wanda’s invasion.

“I do.”

Well, that’s unexpected. Natasha sits, and Wanda pointedly shuffles away from her. She hasn’t invited the woman to sit with her. What does she want?

“You don’t have to stay here.”

Wanda looks over at her. “What?”

Natasha draws a pattern on the seat with the tip of one slender finger. “You don’t have to stay. You could go anywhere you wanted.”

“You want me to leave.” Of course. Why would they want her to stay? They clearly need her powers, but not enough to bring her into the fold. She’s a stranger, and worse, she’s been inside their heads. That is a line no one should cross, she knows that. She drops her head, staring down towards the street below them.

“No,” Natasha says gently, reaching out to grip her arm. Wanda tenses, but only because no one has touched her since she arrived here. “What I’m saying is, if you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to stay. You can do whatever you want.”

Wanda fixes her gaze on the next building over. “Where would I go?”

“Anywhere, I told you-”

“Where would I _go?_ ” she demands, turning blazing eyes on Natasha. “What would I do? I don’t even know who I am without him.” Her breath catches, but not enough to stop the anger rolling through her chest.

“I know you miss Pietro-”

“Don’t say his name.” Wanda turns back to glare at the city below them. “You do not get to say his name. None of you do.”

“This isn’t your home,” Natasha murmurs, after a moment. Wanda sags a tiny bit, because she’s right.

“But I know somewhere that could be.”

Despite herself, Wanda perks up. The movement is so small that it could be missed, were she not sitting across from one of the world’s best spies. She looks at Natasha, and the hard edge of her anger softens a little.

“The base upstate,” she says. “Steve and I are going there tomorrow. Tony works from here most of the time, but some of the others are going to come and work with us up there. It’s got grounds, it’s close to the forests… I think you’d like it.”

Wanda sighs. “You feel sorry for me.”

“Of course I do,” Natasha says, her voice firm. “You can’t expect any of us not to feel for you.”

“I never asked-”

“You didn’t,” she interrupts. “But we do.”

Wanda considers. “Is that the right choice?” she asks. She hates how weak her voice sounds. It’s thin, and unsure.

“You get to choose,” Natasha murmurs. “Your life is no one’s business anymore. If you want to leave, you can leave tonight. I’ll help you. But I know you want to do good, and that’s what Steve and I are trying to do too. So if you want, you can come tomorrow. We’re leaving at midday.”

She goes, and Wanda is left staring out at the city. She’s never considered _leaving_. Surely one of these idiots would just track her down and bring her back? But maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe she could work for them of her own free will.

“You died for them,” she whispers to Pietro, leaning against the thick glass of the window. “Should I sign up to do the same?”

She knows the answer; it’s in the question. She can’t leave the people Pietro protected so fiercely. Her brother was an idiot, but he always found himself on the moral high ground, and now that he’s gone, it’s her job to be there too.

She rests her hand against the glass, and it’s cool, and not nearly right. She has to be outside. Somewhere near a forest doesn’t sound half bad.

“I miss you,” she tells the sky. “But I’ll make good. Promise.”

-

Natasha is throwing the last gear bag into the quinjet when Wanda appears on the roof. She half expected the girl to be gone by morning, but here she is, a small bag of donated possessions on her shoulder. Natasha waves her over, and Steve twists in his seat to see the new arrival.

“Welcome to the team,” he calls over his shoulder. Natasha squeezes her hand, and walks inside with her, closing the cargo bay door behind them.


End file.
